Perfectly Imperfect
by hearteyesandbowties
Summary: Rachel can't cook, Blaine is concerned, but at least Kurt bought the dinner rolls. Or, alternatively, about 1K words of holiday fluffiness. A Thanksgiving fic, brought to you a day later than originally planned! AUish. Platonic!Klaine (ha). Oneshot. Complete!


**I've come back from the dead! With a Thanksgiving fic, to boot!**

**Disclaimer: No, I still don't own anything.**

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She was fully capable of preparing a Thanksgiving meal, she'd said.

Really, it was just a turkey, she'd said.

It would be easy, she'd said.

Kurt frowned as Rachel pulled something that resembled a large piece of charcoal out of their tiny oven and scrunched his nose as the smell hit him head on. If he hadn't known any better, he would have guessed that his father had just finished cooking. Burt Hummel was many things, many wonderful things, but the man could not cook, regardless of how hard he tried. In fact, Thanksgiving in the Hummel household tended to consist of takeout food because of it.

"Okay!" Rachel exclaimed, ripping off her oven mitts. The small turkey sat atop their stove, looking sad and somewhat pathetic. She blindly waved her arms behind her in a useless attempt to calm the smoking bird, a forced smile plastered on her face. "You know, it's really not that bad. Just a little…well done."

Kurt winced, "I wouldn't call that well done, Rachel."

She pouted and fixed her gaze upon her handiwork once more, "We could work around the burnt parts, maybe?"

Kurt contemplated this, examining their prospective meal for a few moments. It would have been a possibility, had the entire thing not been scorched and blackened. He clicked his tongue, glancing at her doubtfully.

"I tried," Rachel's shoulders sagged as she half-heartedly glared at the turkey.

"Hey," he nudged her, "at least it didn't catch on fire this time, right?"

Naturally, as soon as the words had escaped his mouth, the smoke detector started beeping. Kurt laughed in spite of himself and went to find a chair as Rachel murmured something along the lines of "not again".

"This is it," she declared. "This is the last time I'm cooking anything, I swear."

"That's exactly what you said last time," Kurt teased, climbing up to turn the machine off. After a quick survey of the buttons, he cut the sound and jumped back down. "And the time before."

"Shush."

"Never."

She smirked, "I wouldn't expect anything less from you, Ku-" A knock on the door effectively interrupted her. "That's probably Blaine. Again. I'll let you get that." With a wink, she pivoted and returned to fanning the turkey.

"Thanks," he playfully rolled his eyes. Shaking his head, he trudged over to the door to reveal, as predicted, one Blaine Anderson.

Blaine had moved in to the apartment below his and Rachel's, about a week and half after them. He was a young hopeful with big city dreams, just as they were, working a steady day job at a coffee shop and occasionally doubling as a nighttime street performer until his winter audition for NYADA rolled around. The trio had become friends almost instantly. Through the months that they'd known each other, Kurt had become especially attached to him, developing the tiniest of crushes in the process.

"Blaine, hi," he grinned as he took in the boy's concerned face. "Come to check on us again?"

Blaine laughed, "Well, I heard the smoke detector, so I thought it might be a good idea. Is everything okay?"

Kurt opened the door wider so Blaine could step inside, "Yeah, everything's fine. Rachel tried her hand cooking again."

"Ah," he nodded. It was all the explanation that he needed. After all, he'd witnessed many of Rachel's nearly disastrous incidents since he'd moved in, the first of which taking place on only his second day, when she'd set some kind of food on fire. A dessert of some sort, if he wasn't mistaken. He shrugged it off. "What was it this time?"

Rachel took a break then, turning to wave at Blaine. "Well, I decided to try making a turkey for Thanksgiving, but..." She indicated to the bird, still smoking, but nowhere near as much as before.

"No such luck," he finished, his eyebrows raised at the display.

"Exactly."

He grinned as she began shooing away the fumes once more in a very Rachel-esque manner, complete with exaggerated movements. Kurt shook his head and leaned in closer to whisper in his ear, "I'm just glad that I decided to pick up some rolls this morning."

"Hallelujah," he whispered back, smirking, "Thanksgiving is saved!"

Kurt rolled his eyes, "Shut up."

"Rude!"

"Blaine."

"Yes?"

He stuck his tongue out and lightly pushed the other boy's head away. Blaine mimicked his actions, and before long, the two were caught up in a play fight. Rachel glanced over her shoulder, at her two best friends, lost in their own little universe, and smiled. They were both beaming, eyes bright and glowing. It was a look she wasn't used to seeing on Kurt, but it was one for which she was very grateful. Kurt had gone through hell at McKinley, after all, and had spent most of his high school career absolutely miserable. The entirety of New Directions – including herself, as much as she hated to admit – hadn't even been aware of the severity of his circumstances until halfway through their junior year, when he'd stood before them and announced that he was considering transferring to Dalton Academy. Ultimately, Kurt had stayed at McKinley, making it through one day at a time, and ready to fly to New York as soon as they'd graduated.

He seemed to be at his happiest when he was with Blaine, which filled her with hope. She may have not done all she could have to make high school easier for him, but maybe Blaine would be able to do enough to make it seem like none of it had happened.

Kurt's eyes locked with Rachel's suddenly, making him stop and flush. He coughed softly, which seemed to bring Blaine back to reality as well. The boy stared sheepishly at the floor and ran a hand through his hair. Rachel grinned at how flustered the two had become and rested her hands on her hips, staring at them knowingly.

Kurt cleared his throat, "Right. Dinner rolls."

"Dinner rolls," Blaine echoed.

Rachel giggled, shaking her head. "Dinner rolls."

They glanced back and forth at each other and laughed quietly, as if they were sharing some private joke, before falling into silence.

Blaine clapped his hands together after a few tense moments, "Well, I have a really small pumpkin pie and the first two seasons of _Friends_ downstairs, if anyone's interested."

"Sounds lovely to me."

"Seconded."

"Fantastic," he grinned. "I'll go set it up. Come down whenever you guys are ready!"

He waved and practically skipped out the door, much to Kurt's amusement, his eyes glued to the boy's retreating figure. Kurt leaned against the counter and chuckled to himself, "I've yet to be convinced that he's actually not an overgrown five-year-old. So, are you-?" he turned to Rachel, cutting himself off upon noticing the pointed expression on her face. "What?"

"You are so obvious. And that's coming from _me_," she nudged him playfully, laughing as he frowned at her.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he replied matter-of-factly as he snatched up the bag of rolls resting beside the oven, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips in spite of himself.

"Whatever." She grabbed his free hand and dragged him toward the door, "Come on, lover boy. There's holiday fun to be had!" Cracking a sly smile, she added, "Maybe more for some than others, if you know what I mean."

"Oh my god," he groaned. "You're insane, you know that?"

She simply hummed in response, choosing not to speak until they reached Blaine's door. She linked her arm in his as the sound of Blaine's footsteps came closer and rocked on the balls of her feet excitedly.

"All in due time, Kurt. All in due time."


End file.
